Double Rainbow: Merging
by Avoline Malfoy
Summary: The walk in the woods was her idea. Who was I to say no? RATED M FOR A REASON, SEQUEL TO DOUBLE RAINBOW.


_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

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_Apparently__, my Hayniss muse is nowhere near done with me. So, I'm writing this as an extension of Double Rainbow. I couldn't see a way to fit it in, so it can be a stand-alone or read as a companion piece to Double Rainbow._

_I won't say much. Had a late night hanging out with friends and only got an hour before time to get ready for work. So, sit back and enjoy!_

_Love always,_

_Avoline_

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I walk behind her, slipping back into my sixteen-year-old self. My tread is as silent as hers, and I keep my blade handy.

If she knew why I had this blade to begin with, she would sink the damn thing to the bottom of a lake.

But that doesn't matter anymore. That day seems like a million lifetimes ago. She's now the center of my world, my heart, my soul, my everything. She's only been mine for a few months now, but I am hopelessly wrapped around her finger. She knows. She's smarter than that. But she doesn't use it against me. She easily could, but she won't.

She doesn't even have to. I'd do anything and everything for her.

We come to the lake she had told me about, with the small concrete house. This whole venture into the woods was her idea. She wanted a romantic picnic in the woods. How could I say no to that?

Minutes later, I'm stretched out on a blanket my mother sewed, munching on a bit of bread from Peeta, her head in my lap. I watch the birds, Mockingjays to be exact, bounce from branch to branch. I'm tempted to try singing again, but it has been so long. Does my singing voice even work anymore? I can feel the words of a song from long before the Dark Ages right on the tip of my tongue, but I don't want her to laugh.

She can sing. She has a beautiful voice, just like my mother did. If she would only use it every so often.

I can at least try.

"Fifteen, there's still time for you.

Twenty-two, I feel her too.

Thirty-three, you're on your way.

Every day's a new day.

Fifteen, there's still time for you.

Time to buy and time to loose.

Hey fifteen, there's never a wish better than this.

When you've only got a hundred years to live."

It isn't until I stop that I notice the forest is silent. Then the Mockingjays pick up the melody, bouncing it amongst themselves. I smile a bit, glad to see that the years of not using it has not dampened my singing voice any. I lift my head to look at the angel who owns my heart.

"Haymitch, where have you been hiding that," she ask, a laugh on her lips. I drop my head back down and stare at the leaves.

"I used to sing all the time," I reply. "My mother taught me, shortly after my father died."

"I'm sorry, Haymitch," she murmurs. I know that she knows. Anyone who lived in the Seam lost their father in generally the same way. The mines held no mercy. Hell, they still burn every so often. The new government shut the off to keep the children away. I reach for her hand, which rests on my stomach.

"I'm sorry that you had to go through the same thing," I counter. "My mother handled it okay. She kept going, and never once seemed affected by our loss. She started singing, and soon taught me. My brother never caught on, but I did. She taught me so many songs from long before the Dark Ages, and I guess I can never forget them."

"Why did you ever stop?" I sigh.

"It just seemed wrong. To sing without my mother there. Like you and your hunting. Took you a while before you went back to it. Me, though. I had just accepted that I never would sing again." I stroke her fingers, then meet her eyes. "But then you came along. You showed me that I could go back to who I was, if only a little bit. I'll never be the boy I was before the Games, but I can be the man who survived them." I sigh again and sit up. "Katniss, I could live a million life times and never deserve you. Whatever you see in me that keeps you by my side, it must be whatever hasn't been fucked up by the liquor." She props herself up on an elbow and presses her lips against mine.

This is the best part of our relationship. Her kisses, which get me more drunk than any whiskey. I love the care that comes with each one, and the blatant disregard for the age difference between us.

I feel the pang in my chest. The new government wanted to rebuild the population, but put a restriction on the maximum age to get married. And I blew it out of the damn water. At forty-two, I'm already seventeen years too old. They will never allow me to marry Katniss. Sure, we could do it in secret. Go the route of the old 12 traditions. But it would never be recognized.

"I see someone who would make a wonderful father one day," she begins, and my eyes fly open. Children? She wants kids? I feel my heart race. "I see someone who has always protected me as much as he could, and always will." She smiles at me, and I can't help but smile back. "I see the man I love." I place one hand to the back of her head and pull her against me, claiming her mouth. How could she say such kind, loving things about the old drunk before her?

She kisses me back, her hand braced against my chest, curling and uncurling. I support her back with my other hand, and that's when I notice how frantic her kisses have become. There's something she wants, and I'm just the person to give it to her.

I tilt her back, moving my lips to her neck so she can breath. The sounds that reaches my ear gets me going, and I can feel my dick start to get with the program. I lay her on her back, supporting myself with one hand and sliding the other up under her shirt. It was getting warm, so she didn't have that old hunting jacket on.

I snap my head back at the bolt of pleasure. Her hand is rubbing me through my jeans, and I can tell that I won't last long once we get going.

"Katniss," I force out, sounding more desperate than I want to. "If you want this as badly as I do, stop. I'm a one and done." Her vigorous rubbing turns into a gentle caress, and my hand snakes up to her breast.

No bra. I feel my dick twitch at the idea. I push the sweater up to her neck, and she sits up enough to pull it off.

Dear God, she's beautiful. Her breasts, though small, are perky and fit perfectly into my hand. Her stomach is flat from being in shape. Her eyes are darker now, filled with lust.

She's more than I could imagine.

I massage one of her breast and take the other nipple between my lips. She yelps, but soon moans and arches into me. It's taking all my self control to keep from stripping her down and rutting into her like some animal. I want her worked up and begging for me. I want the only clear thought in her head to be what I plan on doing to her.

I want her to promise to be mine.

I feel her tiny fingers pulling at my own sweater, and I pull away enough to yank it over my head.

Her eyes scan over me, and they're damn near black. Her fingertip traces over the lines of the muscles, which I have been busting my ass to gain back. She lightly grazes over my pecks, oh so close to my own nipples, then lowers her hand over my abs. I flex the muscles under her touch, and hear her small gasp.

Enough exploring for today. I'm aching with need and she can't be much better off.

I reach for her boots and yank them off. Then I peel her jeans away, taking note of the white cotton underwear. She's nothing like the nymphomaniacs in the Capitol. She's so pure and perfect, and she's about to give me the only thing she has left to give.

"Are you sure, babe," I whisper. "Once it's done, there's no going back."

"I know," she answers, her voice low and seductive. I push my own jeans down my legs and kick them aside, having shed my boots the minute we got here. Her eyes lock onto my cock, which stands proud and throbbing and leaking precum. I reach between her legs and rub against the material. She writhes below me, and this time, I can't stop the groan.

"Katniss, if you only knew what you looked like right now."

So wanton and needy and beautiful. I can barely breath, mostly from it being stolen by the angel below me.

Her eyes meet mine, and they're solid black. There's no iris, and barely any white left in them.

"Haymitch, please," she begs, and I remember that I'm still rubbing her. I reach for the waist band and pull the cotton away, tossing them onto the ground beside us. I pump myself a couple of times, then line myself up with her.

"This won't feel good at first, babe," I explain. "But I promise, I'll be gentle." She nods slightly, and I figure the quicker the better. I slam into her, taking her last bit of innocence.

She trembles beneath me, whimpering slightly. I'm trembling as well, trying to keep from moving. She feels perfect around me, so hot and wet and tight. I want so badly to move, but I don't want to hurt her anymore than I already have.

"I'm sorry," I coo, gently petting her hair, her nails digging into my arm. "I'm sorry, baby. It'll fade, hummingbird."

"It already is, Haymitch," she responds. "Try moving a bit."

I pull out a small bit, then slide back in.

She arches and moans, a sound so primal it nearly becomes my undoing.

But I have to keep a handle on things. I promised that I would be gentle, and I plan on keeping that promise.

I take my time, slowly pumping into her, making love to her until she cums again and again. The only word passing her lips is my name, and it sounds so beautiful coming from her.

I finally can't hold on anymore, and let go of my self-control. The pleasure is overwhelming, and her name falls from my mouth.

We lie on our sides, panting, in each others arms. I'm still buried inside of her, cause that's what she wants. She dozing off beside me, and I'm glad I grabbed the biggest blanket I had. I reach for the edge and pull it over us.

"Go to sleep, hummingbird," I whisper in her ear. "I'll still be here when you wake. My double rainbow."

Double rainbows, merging.

Now we're brighter than ever.


End file.
